FirstCollision
by KrieRi
Summary: Instead of the really cheesy prequel I had here first, here's a real summary: Haha, no, just kidding. :)
1. Chapter 1: Work on a monday?

When one spends his days living in a flat with an astonishingly sapient man, one tends to feel less educated. Processed through the most brilliant of minds, the hardest of problems can become overly simplified.

I once told my friend how his applications of logic and reason on the most curious of phenomena reduced them to mere notions, how he changed the unknown into the known, leaving something behind in the process. He smiled, having heard that same remark countless times before. He said nothing, but pointed to one of the bookshelves next to the window. More precisely, he pointed to a book that was apparently written by Richard P. Feynman. Having no clue what he meant, I did the usual and started reading.

For a few minutes, we both sat down. We said nothing. We were both occupied with our own literature, that we didn't even bother to greet Mrs. Hudson, who just brought us tea. The book was a tough read, as it mostly consisted of research data and, occasionally, a passage with a practical application of said data. Abruptly, Sherlock's voice disturbed my concentration.

"Shouldn't you go to work?"

"Why would I work on a Monday? I never work on Mondays!"

"Today you do."

I was puzzled. Did someone call to change my schedule? I asked Sherlock.

"No, but they will need all the help they can get. It seems that a new, more aggressive mutation of the flu has developed itself in Mexico. The last few flights from Mexico-City to London were 4, 16, 28 and 30 hours ago. 747's usually have 416 seats available, excluding the crew. The chance of anyone on those plane having caught the flu is almost 100%. Since your hospital is one of the main vaccinating posts in London, it will probably be needed for you to help out."

"But they can do fine on their own!" I said, getting slightly irritated.

"The amount of capable nurses is high enough, they won't need an extra doctor!"

Sherlock smirked.

"I didn't say it would be necessary for you to appear, I just thought it might make a good impression. You have something to make up to the scientific community since you started dozing off..."

As always, he was right. That was quite the incident.

I quickly finished my tea. While I walked down the stairs, my roommate was still concentrated on the newspapers lying scattered across the table. I assumed he was doing research on the Titanic, because I saw a picture of it earlier. Holding my own book, I got into a cab and drove off.


	2. Chapter 2: Calm before the storm

When I came out of the cab, the sky had turned darker. It did indeed look busy once I was inside, so I went to help with the vaccination.

After a few rather repetitive hours, I decided to take a small walk through the other departments, and eat my lunch in the process. It was a rather dull meal, since I hadn't had much time to prepare it this morning. I didn't even like peanut butter.

"Ooh! Peanut butter!"

Slightly confused, I looked at the patient who said those words. He continued to talk to me.

"Yes, I know, sorry, bit of trouble with the zhang before. Beautiful planet though, but the cooking.."

He made a face as if he just ate ten rotten apples.

"Well, I guess the scenery kind of made up for it. I like twin-systems, they always give that feel of complete harmony. Don't you think so? It did generate some rough gravitational waves, so the TARDIS had a bit of a bump. Well, when I say a bit.."

The man continued daydreaming. Looking at his chart, he didn't seem to be on medication or on scheduling for an operation. This made me confident enough to give him one of my peanut butter sandwiches.

He smiled.

"I wish I could give you a share of my lunch as well, but I'm afraid only a zhang can enjoy this."

He held up a lunchbox with pink goo dripping out. I am not capable of transferring the enormous effect that the stench had. My eyes teared up, and my mouth became completely dry. That rotten "food" of his, could be a problem for the health of other patients. I asked him if I could throw it away. The man gave me the box, but a bit reluctantly. I suppose he couldn't remember why he had it in the first place. He seemed to have made up a story of other worlds, to compromise for that memory failure. One sees such behaviour often in neurological patients.

I walked to the trashcan in the corner and threw it away. Then, I proceeded to walk out of the neurological department and back to the emergency vaccination clinic. While passing the window I noticed that it was raining. With weather like this, diseases spread fast.

Then, my phone rang. It was the Inspector Gadget theme song, which meant Greg was calling me. He probably had a small breakthrough in the case he was working on, which involved the deceased Clive Finch.

I picked up the phone.


	3. Chapter 3: Back into hell

"John! Thank goodness, your phone is still alive. Tell me, are you in the hospital today?"

"Yes, I need to work overtime."

"John I'm not sure what, but something is very wrong! You have to leave as soon as possible!"

That was odd. Greg wasn't usually making these sorts of jokes.

"What do you mean? What's going on?"

The moment I said those words was when I answered my own question.

It was something so obvious, so huge, that I just straight up ignored it.

A protective mechanism in the human brain can sometimes discard contradicting information. What I saw was contradicting with reality in almost every possible way.

Another lightning discharge shot through the air, and made it all the clearer.

Paralysed I stood there, looking out of the window.

My cell phone slid out of my hand.

The sound of it hitting the concrete floor slammed my consciousness as if it were a hammer.

Usually..

Usually water flows down..

Right?

Then, without any warning, the floor began to shake. It wasn't like an earthquake at all, it was way to sudden. The shaking increased, and so did the frequency of the lightning strikes. My hair started to stand up, the static electricity in the air inside the hospital was increasing. It looked like a big finale was coming. But nothing could prepare me for what was to come. The entire sky lit up bright, and the shaking became so heavy that I fell to the ground.

This couldn't possibly be happening..

This had to be some kind of delusion..

"Darn, Sherlock must have drugged me again!"

When I retrieved my consciousness, the rumbling had stopped. In fact, everything seemed to have calmed down. The hallway I was in lead to the central staircase, which I hurried down.

I ran into the IC department, where the patients were probably in the worst state.

This was like Afghanistan all over again.

There were times, when rogue extremists attacked our camps, that all of it happened too quick to think. It was those times, when I couldn't rely on rationality. When reason was only a hindrance to my medical aid. Right now, people had to be helped, and I couldn't waste any time thinking about the ridiculous event's that just occurred.

Down in the IC department, things were a complete mess. Nurses ran around trying to stabilise patients, who had a great variety of injuries.

I checked on a patient with long damage, to see if he was stable enough to move him back in to bed. He seemed to be, although a slight hanging of his tongue indicated a small concussion. His state needed to be further monitored to assist, should any other symptoms of brain damage occur. A nurse helped me put him back in to bed. Next patient...

This patient had a haemorrhage along her wrist, where she used to have an infusion needle, but because she fell out of bed, a small portion of her blood vessel seemed to have ruptured. she lost some blood, but not more then 8%. She had a high pulse, which indicated that the brain wasn't getting enough oxygen. I blocked the blood flow to the arm, and proceeded to push up her legs. This would increase the amount of blood in the brain. Together with a nurse we put her on a crash cart, and the nurse took her off. This women needed a blood transfusion if she was to survive the next couple of minutes. I looked at her chart. She had blood group AB, which meant she had a good chance of getting a transfusion. Next patient...

The next patient had her neck twisted in an unnatural way. At first glance, it was already obvious. Next patient...


	4. Chapter 4: Bakerstreet games (note)

"Cough!"

With a red nose, sore throat, and a nice cup of steaming hot tea, Sherlock was researching an old case. The case he worked on was not provided by a client, but by rumours and tales, appearances and vanishings. Not big ones, otherwise other people would have noticed. Or perhaps they did, Sherlock didn't know. All the incidents were small mysteries of their own.

Sherlock had been involved with some, such as the disappearance of Harriet J, a reporter, last seen entering her house, but never coming out. Friends and family had no idea where she could have gone.

Or the death of Clive Finch, who was brutally murdered with a sharp object, about one feet long. This couldn't have been a burglary, since nothing was stolen. These seemingly unlinked cases had one thing in common.

Sherlock coughed again, his pupils narrowing.

"They're impossible!"

"I'm sorry dear, what did you say?" miss Hudson poured him some more tea.

"I said (Cough!) that they are impossible! They don't make sense! They shouldn't be!"

Frustrated, Sherlock picked the cube up from the table in front of him. He looked at it, both impressed and disgusted.

He then shrugged, and threw the rubik's across the room. It hit the wall right next to the rubbish bin. Miss.

"Sherlock, That's your brothers!"

"I know, he worships the devil."

"You couldn't solve it?"

"This piece of witchcraft? It's not possible to solve this thing. I need a laptop."

"No dear, that's against the rules."

"Please?" Sherlock put up a begging face. He had read an article on the web concerning facial expressions and superiority. Giving miss Hudson authority in this situation might be positive for-

"No." Miss Hudson's response was cold and clear.

"It was your idea to have me as a referee to this ridiculous game of you and your brother, so you are to put up with this without any nagging."

Sherlock coughed angrily. COUGH! Miss Hudson didn't care about his cold, he still wasn't allowed to look for the solution online. Disappointed, he decided to go for a stroll down at the park.

As he walked out of the door, miss Hudson smiled. She had swapped two corner colours.

* * *

[Blub. This is a small authors note. If you are not interested in this sort of stuff, please proceed to the next chapter.]

Hello random people of the internet. First of all, I'd like to apologise. There hasn't been any sort of regularity concerning my updates, as I had a lot of trouble with my internet connection. I am currently in Norway(man, it's incredibly hot here!) and the wifi on the terrain where I currently reside has some issues with my laptop. Yes, the wifi hates my laptop, not the other way around. So it may take a while before new chapters appear.

Also, since this is pretty much my first fan fiction ever, I'd really, really, really appreciate it if some people would be so kind as to post a small review. It doesn't have to be much, it could even be something like "ermehgerd, ye spelled 'To' wreng ediet, en thes gremetecel centext et sheld be 'Too'!11!1 ". Yes, even that helps. If you would be so kind as to point out where I made the error, that is.

One more thing, concerning the story. For Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, these events take place right after Baskerville(s2e2), and for the Doctor.. Well, wibbily wobbily, timey wimey.. you get the idea J.

So after all this strange talk, I hope you have fun reading this story. As Holmes himself put is, so gently: Laters!


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